


Kids From Yesterday

by Corvid_Knight



Series: Demonstuck [32]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Demonstuck, Gen, Mind Control, Tumblr Prompt, accidental mental age regression through magic, also there is a swan, at all, not a kink thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 04:10:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16611683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvid_Knight/pseuds/Corvid_Knight
Summary: In which the Striders go out to check on a report of weird shit, and find that it's not the easy job that they expected. (Is it ever?)





	Kids From Yesterday

This is supposed to be easy, the kind of easy that hunters don't run across that often. It's a simple little thing, a report of weird mental effects that's more an excuse to take Davesprite out than anything. 

You'd never let him come along if there was any actual danger. He's your baby bro, even more so than Jr and Seb; those two, you at least tried to code to be a little more capable of handling themselves, not really mature but...normal? Fuck, _normal_ doesn't really apply for this family, but your two can pass for normal in most situations better than you or Dirk can, possibly even better than Dave and D. 

Well, usually. Other than the whole talking thing. 

Anyway, neither Jr nor Sebastian are along for this job. It's D, Dirk, Dave, Davesprite, and then you, because you're a troublemaker who decided to ruin the nice alliterative names by naming yourself after a certain Spielberg AI. (That's what Dirk gets for not thinking about how his actions have consequences.) It's them and you, and you've got Davesprite's hand in yours because even after all this time he's _still_ nervous about open spaces and sunlight, and you can see his wings shifting half-open and then closed again (but no normal humans will; even with shades firmly on his nose his magic's strong enough to put up a glamour) and yes, this is a investigative reconnaissance and damage control outing but it's _also_ a chance to take him to the park, let him be outside and surrounded by his family—

"We just got noticed," Dave murmurs. A minute ago he was on the other side of the path, at least five feet away; now he's next to you, on the opposite side from Davesprite. "Can't tell who, but they're...scared." 

"Scared?" You ask the single-word question under your breath, soft enough to not be heard by anyone but Dave and Davesprite. "How scared?" 

"Enough to be a problem. Davesprite—" 

"I want your phone." Davesprite's hand tightens on yours as he makes that demand, holding out his other hand even before Dave actually tells him that he needs to get clear. "Somebody's phone; I'm _so_ not walking off without a fucking safety net—" 

"Okay, we get it, we need to replace your phone." Dave drops his phone into Davesprite's palm, shaking his head as he does. "If you didn't text with Jr when you were in the bathtub—" 

"Yeah, yeah, I get it bye!" 

And he's gone, back off around the bend in the path and put of sight in maybe thirty seconds. You're about ninety percent sure he's headed straight for the pond again...and without Dirk and Dave to tell him no, he's almost certainly going to befriend one of the ducks. Maybe all of the ducks. He's going to want to take them home. You're all going to go to jail for ducknapping. 

Eh, cross that bridge when you come to it. "Dave, you figure out who it is yet?" 

"Shut up for another sec." He shakes his head. You're willing to bet that behind his shades, his eyes are closed; he's holding himself perfectly still, not even breathing as he _listens._ "D?"

"Yeah?" Your elder brother moves up closer to you and Dave, hands flexing like he's already about to pull the knives hidden in his sleeves. 

"Stop thinking about your boyfriend's dick for like, a minute. You're louder than Dirk, and he ain't exactly quiet." 

"The hell do you mean, I'm not quiet?" 

" _Shush._ " Dave sighs and pulls his shades off, and oh look you were right (again, of course), his eyes are closed and stay closed as he turns the aviators over and over in his hands, like a talisman or a divining rod or some small token that carries no magic other than what he might impart to it. His voice goes low and thoughtful, not meant to go beyond this small circle. "It's a—a guy. No. A girl. Fuck, can't tell, could be either. Neither. Both. Feels kinda weird. Scared, yeah, like they got fucked up by hunters before—" 

"Nobody reported run-ins." Dirk points it out before you can. 

"Not us. Nothing like us. We don't capture to keep, and those fuckers wanted to." Dave winces, shakes his head slightly. He doesn't open his eyes, not yet. "They're scared." 

"You said they were scared of us already." 

"Not of us, D. Of killing us. They couldn't stop the other ones; had to kill them before they'd stop. Magic didn't work right. They don't wanna do that again, trust me." Dave turns slightly and you sidestep to not be in front of him, even though you're fairly sure he doesn't need line-of-sight for this. "Okay, why the fuck can I get a perfect image of those fuckers' insignia from them, and not their own name? C'mon man, it's your name, it's part of you, you _wanna_ think about that, we both know you do..." 

He trails off and just stands there for a second, lips still moving soundlessly. 

You see the moment that Dave picks up what he's looking for. Dirk and D see it too; they both tense, Dirk's hand dipping into one of his deeper pockets and D's hands clenching into fists, ready to draw as soon as Dave gives them a target. 

Which he doesn't do. Instead he opens his eyes, turns almost a hundred and eighty degrees, and yells, "Yo, Adam!" 

There's maybe six people in sight, maybe more in earshot that you can't see, but only one flinches visibly at Dave's call. It's a short kid in a battered black hoodie, and even though the only thing that makes you think "guy" is the length of their curly reddish hair, you're pretty sure that's the right person. 

No weapons, at least. Not that you see, and you highly doubt that they can hide anything well enough that you wouldn't see some sign. 

Because you actually took the time to assess a threat level, D and Dirk both have time to brush past you, and they're a few steps in front of you when the kid's eyes widen and they sweep their left hand in front of them, palm down and fingers spread. It's a fast, jerky movement, and to your eyes there's not much it could mean but _casting out._

D stops dead, shaking his head like someone's thrown water in his eyes. Behind you, Dave makes a choked-off sound. 

Dirk just collapses like he's a puppet with cut strings. 

_Shit._ Dave's words from a moment ago run through your mind—about how this kid killed whoever's come before you—and everything goes both ice cold and blazing hot in your head. 

You're on the kid before they (he? she? fuck it, you still can't tell) can move; their hand is still outstretched and you knock it aside, slam into them without even trying to correct the overbalance. They go down, hit the grass and _fuck_ but you wish it'd been concrete because that's what Dirk fell on. That's what they did to your fucking _creator._

No one but you gets to do that to him. That's _your_ birthright, _your_ vengeance— 

"Hal!" 

You don't know that name. You _don't_. He didn't give you a name, he just fucking made you and left you alone, and now—

" _Hal_! Let them _up_ —" 

The last word becomes a strident caw, which is almost immediately drowned out by a cry you don't quite have a name for. It's like some kind of brass instrument but more organic, and louder than any animal has any right to be. 

The bird that slams into you and knocks you aside (breaking your quite literal deathgrip on the kid's throat) is bigger than a bird should be. Its beak slams into your hand when you go to grab for a knife, breaking skin and making your fingers to numb from the sheer force. 

"Stay _down,_ " Davesprite warns, and you're not sure if he's speaking to you or to the kid who's rolled to their hands and knees, coughing like you broke something in their throat.

You weren't planning on standing up. There is a goddamn swan on your chest. 

It doesn't seem to want to let you up, but it doesn't take offense to you craning your neck, trying to both keep an eye on the kid who hurt your brothers, and see what the cockatrice is doing. 

The kid is still sobbing and coughing. Davesprite is kneeling by Dirk's (your _creator's_ ) crumpled form, one hand at Dirk's throat, obviously checking for his pulse. 

(And for a moment you're _jealous_. That should be you. No one else has the right to come that close to being able to kill him. _No one._ ) 

(...some sliver of your rational and normal mind is beginning to wonder what the fuck is wrong with you.) 

"He's alive, Hal." Davesprite rises to his feet, wings spreading for balance. To the woman who's just rounded the corner and is standing there with her mouth open and one earbud out, he says, "Go on. Finish your run, everything's cool, nothing to see here, right?" 

And she does exactly that. 

Davesprite's shades are off, you realize as he steps over to look up at D. Thank fucking god someone's still in control of his mind and powers here...

"D." When that doesn't get a response the cockatrice snaps his fingers in front of D's face, nails phasing into true claws for the second of contact. "D! You okay?" 

"Huh?" D looks up, blinks twice, and grins. It's too honestly confused to be fake. "Hey there. What the hell's going on, kiddo?" 

"Yeah, you're fine." Davesprite pats D on the back, deftly dodges the return attempt to ruffle his hair, and kneels down next to Dave. "Hey." 

You're not sure when Dave ended up on the ground, but that's where he is: sitting, if you can call it that, his legs under him like they just stopped working, arms wrapped around his chest like he thinks that'll shield him from whatever he's expecting. When Davesprite kneels beside him he flinches, not quite managing to cover it. 

"Dave, what's wrong?" 

Your brother gasps, shakes his head and closes his eyes as he ducks his head, and even from ten feet away you can hear the two words he whispers. 

"...where's Bro?" 

Oh, _shit_.

Davesprite just stares at him for a moment, then looks back over his shoulder and says (presumably to the swan) "Let him up." 

After a moment's consideration, the fuckin' giant bird makes that bugling sound again and hops off your chest. Which means you're free to roll to your feet, grab that fucking kid's shirt, and haul them to their feet. Damn, this would be more effective if you had any kind of structure to slam them against, but you settle for twisting your hands up in the faded black hoodie, and pulling up until they're forced up on their tiptoes. 

"Hal, what the fuck!" 

You ignore Davesprite, and instead give the kid a hard shake. "What the _hell_ did you do to them! Fucking _fix_ it! _Now_! Adam, you—" 

"That's not my _name_!" 

This time you actually feel the power hit you. It's like being slapped with a palmful of needles, like being connected to a body for the first time; in other words, it _hurts._ Hurts badly enough that you let go and stagger back until you hit something. 

No, someone. Davesprite. He puts one hand on your back and chirps questioningly. 

Unfortunately, you're still not really in the mood to reassure him. "Fuck!" Yeah, it still hurts. 

"Don't move." Is Davesprite talking to you? You have no idea. Can't really look, either; you don't dare take your hands away from your face yet. "For fuck's sake—Gabriel, hold them!" 

Gabriel is, apparently, the swan. It bugles again, and the kid (whose name is, apparently, _not_ Adam, which means Dave was wrong?) yelps in alarm or pain. You hope it's pain. 

(Okay, what the _fuck_ is wrong with you?) 

You very gingerly lower your hands. 

The kid's on the ground again, with the swan sitting on their chest. Davesprite's hand tightens on your arm before you can start to lunge again. 

Not that you were going to. It's actually time to let your little bro do the talking. Maybe. Even if your mind is very fucking unhappy with being spoken over and spoken for, _again._

_Calm down. Calm down. Calm the fuck down._

"What," Davesprite asks, either surprisingly calm or impressively deadpan, "did you do? Also, what's your name, since it obviously isn't what Hal thinks it is?" 

You expect some kind of outburst. Maybe the kid telling both of you to fuck off. You _don't_ expect the kid to sob out, "Gale, it's _Gale,_ just kill me if you don't think I'm human, I can't—" 

...oh. 

You twist out of Davesprite's grip and step over to smack the swan's back. It turns around and hisses at you—fuck, you didn't know birds had anything that looked quite that much like teeth—but at Davesprite's soft caw it hops off and stalks over to him, letting you reach down and haul Gale up to their feet. 

They cry out again when you touch them, but you're the one who winces when magic swirls around you again. 

"Cut it out!" Davesprite snaps out, and then almost immediately, "Not you, Dave, you're okay—" 

"I'm not _okay_ —where's _Bro_?" 

His voice cracks twice. Fuck. 

"Davesprite—" 

"I got him. D, grab Dirk and come on." 

"Sure! Quick question, though—who's Dirk?" 

...this is going to be a fucking nightmare, isn't it.

* * *

Dave will not. Get. In. The car. He also freezes whenever you so much as look at him, so you let Davesprite try to talk him into this, and instead pull Gale around to the other side of the car. 

"What did you do to them?" 

The kid shakes their head frantically, pulling until you let of of their arm and immediately running both hands through curly reddish-brown hair, wide eyes fixed on you. Again, Dave's words run through your head. 

_They're scared._

"Look, I'm not going to hurt you. I know I _did_ hurt you—" You can actually see the bruises rising on their neck; the guilt kind of hurts. "—but I'm pretty fucking sure your magic shit had something to do with that. It won't happen again." 

"...I don't believe you." 

Damn. Okay, you guess you expected that. "Okay, fair enough—what the hell did you do to us, though?" 

"Are you going to lock me up?" 

"What? Fuck no." 

" 'cause I'm not working for you." 

"Kid, you need to get your shit under control before any sane hunter would trust you on a job, and right now I kind of want to not trust you, ever, but I'm pretty sure that's because of whatever you did to me. And I need to know what that is, so I can fix it for Dave and D." Wait. Damn. "And Dirk." 

They just stare at you, both hands still gripping at their hair. When you just wait patiently, they sigh and shake their head. "It wears off." 

Oh thank fuck. But still... "Okay, but what did you _do_?" 

"Nothing! I didn't hurt them!" 

"Gale, Dirk hasn't said one fucking word and Dave's scared out of his mind—" 

"I didn't mean for that to happen! It shouldn't have happened, it's a stupid age regression thing, it shouldn't have done that, _you_ shouldn't have been able to _hurt_ me—" 

Their eyes are full of tears, but you have at least _some_ idea of what's going on now. Dirk was a quiet kid, you remember that from the fraction of his childhood memories you inherited, and Dave...poor Dave has to be terrified right now, and from what you know of his Bro you're not surprised.

You're actually surprised at your own reaction, though. You knew you were angry and confused when Dirk first created you, but that was...kind of an overreaction. Probably. 

Knowing that does not really make you less pissed off right now. You're still pissed. Fuck, are you pissed. 

"Gale?" 

"...uh, yeah?" 

"Please tell me you have a fucking driver's license."

* * *

They don't. 

You have them drive anyway. Davesprite directs. You try to ignore D's cheery questioning, and not make eye contact with Dave in the rearview mirror. 

Both of those things are inordinately difficult to do.

* * *

Probably because Gale takes no fewer than six wrong turns, Gabriel the swan is already in the front yard before you get there, calmly eating grass. Karkat and John are both sitting on the steps, watching the damn thing; John looks much more fascinated than he really should. This is going to be a permanent pet. Fuck. 

The demon's up and at the car door before Gale actually gets the engine shut off, yanking it open and reaching for Dave, already talking too fast and loud and, again, _scared._ Everyone other than you and D is scared, apparently. 

"Fuck, Dave, what's wrong? I can't feel you, you're closed, why the fuck are you shutting me out, _how_ the fuck are you—Dave? Dave..." 

"I think he's scared of you, dude," D offers helpfully, as Dave presses against him, very fucking obviously trying to avoid touching Karkat. "Is that, like, a thing he needs to be? 'cause I can tell you're a demon, those eyes kinda give you away—" 

"What the fuck—you asshat, of course I'm a fucking demon! I've lived with your kids for ten fucking years—" 

"Wait, I have kids?" 

Karkat just growls in frustration, then abruptly stops as Dave whimpers at the sound. Davesprite looks over at you, quite obviously decides that you're not going to be of much help with explaining (a good decision, since right now you're working on pushing down the desire to lean over the seat and strangle Dirk) and unclips his seatbelt so he can pull his legs up to lean on the seat and face Karkat. 

"Everybody but me and Hal got hit with a spell," he says. 

"I got hit too," you feel the need to point out, and Davesprite turns around to frown at you. Shit, orange eyes. Not great with your current mental state. 

"You're not acting like a kid—" 

" _I_ never was a kid, so why the hell would I act like one?" Deep breath. Don't yell at him. "This shit kicked _me_ back to my mental state right after Dirk made me. So you get paranoia, fear, and a _very_ strong desire to rip a certain _someone's_ head off." 

"...oh." The cockatrice considers for a second, then nods and just climbs over you, yanking the door open and slipping out to get Dirk's door open. "Yeah, let's get rid of that temptation...c'mon, Dirk." 

Dirk does not move. 

"D, little help here?" 

"Why me, exactly?" 

"That's your kid, he'll listen to you. Come on, both of you." 

" _You're_ my kid? Hell fucking yes, I get a cool-ass kid! C'mon, Dirk, let me get out." 

A moment later, the door slams shut. You keep looking straight ahead, at the closed glovebox. There is absolutely nothing you can gain by watching Dirk. Nothing. That would cause more problems than the small satisfaction it might give you would justify. 

"Dave?" Oh. Karkat's still standing there. "You need to come in, okay?"

The gentleness in his voice sparks jealousy (again, what the _fuck_?) but the soft noise Dave makes drowns it in sympathetic pain. For a minute you're fairly sure Dave isn't even going to answer. 

His response doesn't really count as an answer, either, since it's another question. "Where's Bro?" 

Karkat growls under his breath again, but there's no trace of that roughness in his voice. "He's not here, but this is D's place. You'll be safe waiting here, I promise you." 

"You're not D. You're not _human_." 

"No, I'm not." 

"Bro's gonna hurt you when he comes for me." 

"No, he won't." 

"He _w-will_." (Fuck, even without looking at him you can almost _see_ the way his lower lip's got to be trembling, how he blinks to keep his eyes clear. _Fuck._ ) "He's gonna hurt you, he's gonna _kill_ you if you touch me, even if you don't hurt me—" 

"Dave, I'm not going to hurt you. Never. And I won't be here when he comes, alright? He's never even going to see me. It'll be okay." 

" ...you promise?"

"I promise. I swear on whatever you want me to swear on, your Bro isn't going to hurt anyone." 

Dave sniffles, and mumbles almost too soft for you to hear, "No one 'cept me." 

_Fuck_. You wish that bastard wasn't dead. You want to beat the shit out of him yourself. From Karkat's soft growl, he agrees with that sentiment. 

"He's not going to hurt you, either, Dave. I swear." 

"Don't know that. Can't swear." 

"I do know, and I do swear. Now will you come in with me? Please?" 

"...mhm. Okay." 

A moment later that door shuts too, which means you're the last one out here. Which means you can just...lean forward and smoosh your face against the cooler surface of the glovebox, and not think about a damn thing. 

You stay there for maybe a minute. 

Then Gale, who you've somehow managed to forget about despite the fact that they haven't moved from the driver's seat, asks hesitantly, "Was that...actually a demon?" 

"Yes." You raise your head to look at them, and realize as you do that you have a headache. Damn. "He's a demon, he's Dave's boyfriend, we have a fucking betting pool going on for which of them is going to propose and when, and under _normal_ circumstances the two of them are mentally inseparable. Your magic fucked that up, obviously, so Karkat will be panicking until this shit wears off. Congratulations. You get to fuck up people you haven't even tried to use your magic on yet." 

Gale flinches at that, and you replay your own words in your head. 

"Shit. Fuck. I am not usually this much of an asshole." 

"Well...it's not like you're wrong." 

"You used non-lethal self defense. There is literally nothing wrong with that." The younger part of you, the part brought out by Gale's magic, wants to point out that it was an extraordinarily useless piece of self-defense, since you weren't going to seriously hurt them in the first place and likely wouldn't have hurt them at all if they'd just acted like a normal goddamn person. 

You shove that part down and slam your head into the glovebox again. Gently. You do it gently. 

Kind of gently. The first time, at least. 

After the fifth or sixth time, Gale grabs the back of your shirt, pulling you back before you can continue attempting to make a dent. You could probably just yank away from their grasp and continue what you're doing, but instead you look over at them and raise an eyebrow. "What." 

"Doesn't that, uh...hurt?" 

"I have a headache." 

"Uh..." 

"You _do_ know you can go into the house, correct? The wards shouldn't stop you." 

"...the what?"

"Wards. Barrier magic in place around the building and property, designed to prevent the passage of malicious magic. It used to be set to keep demons out, but Roxy reworked it when Dirk made me." 

"When he—" The kid's eyes get bigger, if that's possible, and you only now notice that they're mismatched; the right's green, the left hazel. Huh. "Wait, that means you're a demon?" 

"I have a demonic component. I think. Maybe. We never really figured that out." When you lean forward, Gale lets go of your shirt; the cooler surface against your forehead is a fucking relief. "I am a sapient artificial intelligence patterned on Dirk's brain, contained in a shikigami vessel. Satisfied?" 

"I...don't know what any of that means." 

"Please just go ask someone who isn't me." 

"I'm not going in until you do." 

"What?" _Ow._ Why do you keep raising your head, exactly? "Why the hell?" 

Gale meets your eyes, their expression just barely shifting at all. You're willing to bet that that much control takes a hell of a lot of willpower. "You're the only one I already met here, who isn't under the influence of....uh, me." 

"I _am_ under your influence, dumbass; did you forget that I tried to kill you?" 

"You didn't try very hard."

"Oh my god." And you faceplant into the glovebox again. 

After a minute, they gingerly tap your shoulder. "Uh...Hal?" 

"Give me two minutes and I'll take you in."

* * *

The wards don't stop Gale, although you do see them jump slightly at the tingling jolt. You don't jump. You are used to this shit by now. 

You're not used to the current goings-on in the kitchen, though; D is methodically going through the fridge, pulling what really looks like random things out. (Fuck, you really hope he isn't about to make a sandwich with that. Someone needs to at least take the whipped cream away from him. Someone as in not you.) Dave's perched on a stool, obviously trying to hunch down as small as he can get, eyes darting between Karkat and Davesprite, who's climbed up on the counter. 

Dirk is nowhere in sight. Excellent. 

Gale stops dead and stares at D, who's just found the baby carrots and is spraying whipped cream on one at a time, then popping them in his mouth. They look over at you, edging a bit closer to whisper, "So...is _he_ a demon?" 

"Unfortunately, he's just a dumbass. D, give me that!" 

"Dude, chill!" He dodges your attempt to grab the whipped cream can away from him, ducking under your arm and darting for the door. "Not my fault you don't have any taste— _oof_!" 

That last is purely because he just made an attempt to dodge through the door while still keeping an eye on you, and ran right into Grey. While D's staring up at him, you take the opportunity to swipe the can and toss it to Gale. 

They catch it, which is a good sign. The fact that they instantly lose it to Davesprite could be a good one or a bad one. Or mean nothing. It means nothing. You are overanalyzing. 

"Oh my _god_ ," D mutters, still staring at Grey like he's mentally undressing him. "Please, please tell me you're single. I will fucking pay you to say that. Doesn't even have to be true. You don't even have to prove it. Just tell me. Make my week." 

Grey blinks down at him with the most baffled expression you've ever seen. "I'm most definitely not single." Before D can open his mouth to say something else stupid, Grey leans down to kiss his forehead, then looks around the room. "...what did you do to my paramour, exactly?" 

"I'm your _what_? Holy shit, am I your mistress? What's the guy word for mistress. Wait, shit, that means you're married. I dunno how I feel about that one, dude. Also, what's your name, 'cause I have no fuckin' clue. Also—" 

D pulls at Grey's shirt until he leans down, then whispers in his ear for a good thirty seconds. The end result is that Grey goes a new and interesting shade of red. 

" _No,_ " he says to D, firmly enough to silence him for at least a moment. And it's you he focuses on. Of course. "Hal." 

"Yes." 

"Why is my lover acting like a horny teenager. More so than normal." 

Gale inches a bit closer to you, then raises their hand. Grey blinks again, examining them for a moment before sighing and shaking his head in resignation.

"...ah. I see." 

"It wears off," you point out, wondering what exactly they think they're accomplishing by hiding behind you. "Eventually." 

"Oh, good. D, would you stop that?" _That_ is bouncing in place, grinning like an idiot as he holds onto Grey's arm. "Who else?" 

Davesprite answers this time. "Dirk, Dave, and Hal. John and Jake have Dirk; you can dump D with 'em if you need a break." 

"Hey!" How the hell can D look offended without ever losing his grin? 

"They have Mariokart." As D considers that, Davesprite pops the cap off the whipped cream can again and directs the spray into his mouth until you start to worry about his ability to breathe.

* * *

Grey talks D into taking up the offer of video games. (He also takes the whipped cream away from Davesprite and sends him along.) You climb up on top of the fridge with a laptop and start pulling up all the hunter symbols you can think of. Dave said he got a clear image of some kind of insignia from Gale; you might as well figure out who the fuck is likely to come after you in the foreseeable future. 

The only problem is figuring out how to ask Gale about this without being an asshole. Again. You really wish Dave wasn't...like he is right now. 

He hasn't moved off his stool. Literally the only thing that's changed is that he seems more worried about Grey than Karkat now. Which makes sense; the size difference between Grey and Dave has to be about the same as that between that _bastard_ and a ten-year-old. 

You hit the _Y_ key hard enough that it flies off. Grey hands it back up to you after a second. 

"Thank you." It should snap back on, you know, but _should_ is the operative word here. Grey keeps watching you as you fiddle with the keyboard.

"Are you okay?" 

"That would be a definite 'no,' mothman. Gale, the people who tried to hurt you before—" 

"I'm _sorry,_ okay, I didn't mean to kill them, I tried—" 

"Gale. Self defense. We already went through this." Not thoroughly enough to keep them from panicking, apparently, because you really do think they're about to hyperventilate. "I want to find out who they are. Were. Whatever." 

" ...I don't know. I never knew, they didn't tell me, they just—came and said I had to come with them—" 

And they're still panicking. You need to be patient. "Dave said he could see a memory of an insignia or something in your mind. Something connected to them." 

"...he was in my _head_?" 

"He's an empath." And, as they open their mouth to ask, "No, that's not a kind of demon. The insignia?" 

Gale shakes their head, wrapping their arms around themself defensively. "It was a patch. They had...like, camo jackets. It looked really stupid...the jackets, not the patch. What's the point of camo in winter? Everything's _dead._ " 

So, camouflage uniform? You start typing, and ask, "What did the patch look like, though?" 

"Blue. Crossed guns with...Latin, maybe? I don't know languages; all I know is it wasn't English or Spanish." 

Grey mutters something that sounds like swearing. When you and Gale both look at him, he runs one hand through his hair and looks up at you. "Give me the computer." 

"No." Ah. There's the possessiveness over your property that took you five fucking years to get past. Grey blinks in surprise, then looks down at Gale instead. 

"Crossed rifles?" 

"Are those...the long ones?" 

"Yes, rifles would be the long ones. And they wore the patches on their upper arms, probably the right?" Grey taps the place, halfway between his shoulder and elbow, on his own arm, and Gale nods. " _Damn_!" 

Dave gasps at that, and Karkat snarls at Grey. 

"...apologies. Hal, I'll save you the time of searching; it's the HDB." Grey turns to Gale again, bowing his head. "I'm sorry. I assumed I'd given them reason to leave this area alone." 

"It, uh. It was a couple states over." Gale actually backs up a couple paces, which makes sense; they haven't known Grey for long enough to realize that under most circumstances he's the exact opposite of intimidating. "You know those people?" 

"We've all taken them on, yes." Grey glances around, considering who's here, then points out, "Everyone in this room's killed at least one member of the HBD. Mostly in self defense." 

"I didn't kill anybody," Dave protest, almost too quietly to be heard. "I don't _wanna_ kill anybody, I can't do that, please—" 

"Shh, Dave." Karkat wraps an arm around your brother, and sighs in relief when he actually leans into the contact. "Do you want to go lay down with me?" 

"...want Dirk." 

"Okay. We can get Dirk." 

"Bro's gonna be mad if I'm asleep when he comes." 

"He won't come soon enough that it'll be a problem. Come on." 

You watch them go, and there's that goddamn jealousy. Again. It feels awful. _You_ feel awful. 

"Hal," Grey says quietly. When you shake yourself and look at him rather than the door, he tells you, "You need to go lie down with them." 

"Fuck off." Oh, fucking _stupid_ automatic responses. "Shit, sorry. But they don't need me." 

"That's an absolutely useless argument, and not even accurate. They're going to be in there making a nest in the living room. Everyone else is going to be in it." 

"I'm with Gale right now." 

"I can finish debriefing him." 

" _Them._ " 

"Ah. Apologies. My offer stands, though. Or they can go see which room they want, for however long they're planning to stay." 

Gale looks very fucking confused at being discussed like this. Even more confused at the mention of their staying here. "What do you mean, _stay_?" 

You shrug and shut your laptop, tossing it to Grey and hopping down off the fridge. "We kind of tend to adopt people here. There's always room." 

"But _me_? I, I, I do stuff. I...killed people." 

"For fuck's sake, it's going to take a while for you to realize I mean it when I say self defense is okay, isn't it?" You pat Gale's shoulder and retrieve your laptop, shoving it back into the drawer under the one Dirk keeps instant coffee packets in. "We all killed people, I killed a guy because I thought he as going to cut off Davesprite's wings, Dave killed his fucking brother, _Karkat_ killed Dave's fucking brother—"

"Uh, how many did he have?" 

"Four counting me or five counting Davesprite, but this was the same brother." You shut the drawer and look up at Gale, fighting the urge to laugh at their confused expression. "Magic is weird, I know. My point is that we don't judge. I mean, we do. Occasionally. It usually involves a Balancekeeper and a lot of spit." 

" ...what?" 

"We're not doing that right now. Grey can tell you more, if you want." 

Before they can ask you anything else, you're shutting the kitchen door behind you.

* * *

You see the pile of blankets and pillows and warm bodies and very nearly turn around and walk out again. That's not where you belong. You don't deserve that closeness, that warmth, that _comfort,_ you don't—

"Saved you a spot," Davesprite chirps from in between D and the wall, and when you step over you see that, yeah, he did. He spreads one wing and pats the blankets next to him, smiling and wrapping his arms around your neck as you settle in the warm place he's made. "Better?" 

"Somewhat." Then he folds his wing in over you like a living feathery blanket, and you have to revise that. "Much better." 

"Good." Davesprite squeaks as D rolls over to wrap his arms around you and him both, but it's a happy noise. It's a good noise. You're fine. Dirk is well away from you, you're being appreciated (no, loved, your brothers love you as much as you love them) and when you wake up everything will be fine. 

To wake up, you have to go to sleep. 

So you close your eyes and relax against the arms holding you and the feathers surrounding you. Everything will be fine.

**Author's Note:**

> [Art of Gale,](https://knight-of-heart-and-art.tumblr.com/post/180137755486/doodlenix-gale-belongs-to) drawn by doodlenix on tumblr! 
> 
> D wakes up half an hour later and whines until Grey comes and gets him. He _actually_ wakes up two hours later in the bedroom, mildly confused but satisfied with where he is. (Ie, on Grey's chest.) 
> 
> Dave wakes up crying with relief, because Karkat just felt him stop keeping his mind closed. 
> 
> Hal wakes up with Dirk curled up against his back where D was, and almost cries in relief because he doesn't want to hurt him anymore. 
> 
> Dirk sleeps for twelve fucking hours and has absolutely no memory of any of this when he wakes up. He may or may not have a concussion from smacking his head against the concrete when he passed out in the park.


End file.
